


Raise A Glass

by NellieSly



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Colleagues to Friends Dynamic, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s05e18 Access, Gen, General Banter if not, Pre-Canon, Pre-ship (for those with eyes who want to see it), Proud Ohioan CJ Cregg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NellieSly/pseuds/NellieSly
Summary: "CJ was someone I found during a Senatorial campaign in New York, she was doing PR with a New York firm. We were probably 36 points behind when we got CJ, and with her help I think we gained 2 or 3 points before we lost."Just a late-night break for the comms team of the biggest landslide victim of the 1992 election cycle.
Relationships: C. J. Cregg & Toby Ziegler
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	Raise A Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WasJustAReader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WasJustAReader/gifts).



> For Rachel on the occasion of her birthday. Midwest is best. <3

It’s past midnight when they shove into a booth at the 24-hour diner across the street from the Peterson for Senate headquarters. It would be almost intimate, if they hadn’t only stopped in for enough coffee to discuss the doomed campaign for the sixteenth consecutive hour. The place is nearly empty, but the two-top booth is narrow, built to maximize space and accommodate the lunch rush.

“What can I get ya?”

Their answers to the waitress overlap, unintentionally, with Toby’s “Black coffee, thanks” mostly drowned out by CJ’s “Just coffee, thanks. Black, two sugars.”

“That’s two black coffees, one straight, one two sugars?”

They both nod.

“Sure I can’t tempt you?” she says, leaving two menus on the table already conspicuously opened to a glossy centerfold of breakfast foods dripping with syrup and fruit.

The waitress’s departure from their table leaves a lull. “I know it took foam rubber and industrial adhesives to get that photo to look good,” CJ says absently, thumbing through the menu, “but damn if I don’t still want that strawberry French toast. Food marketing is the devil’s work.”

A small, distracted noise of agreement sounds from the back of Toby’s throat.

CJ turns to another page. “Garlic bread, though, garlic bread doesn’t require any food styling tricks. No false pretenses. It’s impossible to screw up an order of garlic bread.”

“So get both,” he says, suddenly paying attention to what was meant to be a rhetorical tirade.

“What? That’s just – _no_.”

“What’s the problem? I promise I don’t care if the garlic makes your breath smell, CJ. Besides, what is this, a date?”

She peers down at him over the top of the menu and arches one eyebrow.

He mirrors her, trying to call her bluff. She raises her other eyebrow and smirks.

Toby Ziegler, out of eyebrows, folds and breaks eye contact, shaking his head. “Just get both.”

“Foods have themes,” CJ argues. “There are natural pairings. Breakfast and dinner do not mix. Meals impose structure on the day and I’m pretty sure the whole breakfast, lunch, and dinner thing _homo sapiens_ have managed to work out is what separates us from the chimps.”

“What kind of white-bread home-ec class opinion is that?”

She chokes out a laugh. “White-bread, really?”

“Oh, I forgot. Mea culpa, Berkeley, mea culpa. You don’t have white bread up there, only that 12-grain flaxseed crap,” Toby says, shooing away the air like the words themselves leave a bad taste in his mouth.

“I have to say I’m flattered that my sun-kissed glow and easygoing demeanor have led you to believe that,” she says dryly, then leans across the table to stage-whisper, “I’m actually from Ohio.”

“So you left Ohio,” he counters, “which is just about the only sensible thing for people from Ohio to do.”

“So did Neil Armstrong, and he left to go to the moon. Plus we have Murphy, you know, of the Law.”

“Who, some kind of judge?”

“No, _Murphy’s Law_. ‘Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong’? Coined by a Mr. Edward Murphy of Dayton, Ohio.” It’s impossible to tell how much of the pride in her voice is meant to be ironic.

“What I’m hearing is that the full phrase should be, ‘Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, _in Ohio._ ’“

“That’s funny. You’re funny,” she says, almost accusatory, “How come I didn’t know you were funny before?”

“Same reason I didn’t know you were funny before.”

“Say what you want, but at least where I come from we have manners.”

“Ah, yes, the glorious Midwest! Huge swaths of passive-aggressive Scandinavians with corn cobs where their spines should be.”

“That’s Minnesota. But anyway, would it really kill you to adopt an inkling of Minnesota Nice?” she says, shifting into the firmly charted territory Toby has come to know as PR Mode. “Not for you - I’ve only known you a month and even I can tell the ship’s sailed on that one - for Peterson. You’re a speechwriter, Toby, not a scriptwriter. You can’t just go around sticking your words in Peterson’s mouth like he’s Kermit the freakin’ Frog.”

“In this scenario Kermit the freakin’ Frog is the one paying me, so yes, I can.”

“You know what I mean - it’s about _charm_. Give him space to breathe, work the room, smile more. Write in stage directions if you have to! God knows Peterson needs all the help he can get. The man wouldn’t know charm if it walked up to him and asked permission to take his grandmother dancing.”

“That’s more or less an asset, in this town.”

“Oh, of course. Because God forbid any politician display a little humanity and kindness without worrying how it’s going to play in an opinion poll first. And have we forgotten it’s the whole state that’s meant to be voting for him? There’s plenty of grandmothers waiting to be charmed in Buffalo, Utica, y’know,” she’s grasping at straws for a third example and she can tell he knows it, too, “White Flat. . . fuckville.”

“Well, then,” he breaks into a wide grin that CJ hasn’t seen before, raising his coffee mug in a mock-toast, “here’s to the voters of White Flatfuckville.”

**Author's Note:**

> (It's true about Murphy's Law: http://www.daytoninnovationlegacy.org/murphy.html)


End file.
